


Welcome to the Rest of Your Life

by celtic7irish



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fade to Black, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Sex Pollen Creates Soulbond, Soulmates, Steve Is a Good Bro, soulbond, winterhawk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-14 02:55:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20593523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celtic7irish/pseuds/celtic7irish
Summary: "Stark, what the hell are these things spitting?" Clint demanded, glaring as one of sentient...plant...things volleyed a cloud of dust-like particles at the armored genius."They're plants, Barton," Tony replied testily. "What do you think?""Iron Man, are you able to figure out what the pollen is doing?"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Huntress79](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huntress79/gifts).
  * Inspired by [A Warm Welcome](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22321837) by [celtic7irish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/celtic7irish/pseuds/celtic7irish). 

> Mildly Dubious Consent warning because the Soulbond is jumpstarted by Sex Pollen producing plants. Clint and Bucky were attracted to each other before this, but neither had admitted to it, and the very nature of Sex Pollen (and Soulbonds) makes it difficult to find the line where Consent is given without outside influence. So nobody is traumatized, the Avengers make sure both parties are safe and agreeable, but I felt it was better to put the warning there than not.

The first time Barnes sought him out, Clint was surprised, though he realized later that he probably shouldn't have been. Everybody wanted something from him these days, it seemed. Steve wanted his best friend back. Tony wanted to mess around with his cybernetic arm and get into his head. Natasha was still a little afraid of him, and was perhaps a little too much of a reminder of his past as the Fist of Hydra, their prized Asset, the Winter Soldier. Bruce kept a wide space between him and everybody else (with the occasional exception of Tony), and Thor was big and loud and took up all the space in a room with his presence, which could be seriously overwhelming sometimes.

Clint held no associations for Barnes, and didn’t expect him to act a certain way, having never met him before, or been shot by him. He’d just looked at Barnes straight on and asked, “Are you planning to kill me?”

“No,” the Soldier answered shortly, and Clint shrugged, then went back to checking over his arrow shafts, checking for balance and imperfections, separating them into two separate piles. The ones that were good would go back in his quiver; the rest would be turned over to Tony, who would undoubtedly say something snarky about Clint damaging his tech to hide how pleased he was to have feedback and something to tinker with. He’d probably throw in a couple of new tips while he was at it. He enjoyed making new trick arrows almost as much as Clint enjoyed testing them to see what they did, preferably against the villain of the week. Even the useless ones were still a lot of fun, flashy or sticky or filled with glitter.

Barnes had remained still and silent, just staring at him for several minutes before he seemed to realize that Clint had nothing else to say. He’d settled himself into a corner and caught a quick nap. And that was that. 

Barnes still spent time with Steve, trying to put together bits of his past and figure out where he fit in the present, and with Tony, who was determined to perfect his arm (though he kept trying to get Barnes to let him make a new one, a plea which Barnes had so far been able to refuse). Sam became his sort-of-but-not-really therapist, though they spent more time bickering with each other than actually _talking_.

But when he needed quiet, needed some time to just be himself, but didn’t necessarily want to be alone in his rooms, Barnes sought out Clint. And over time, Barnes and Barton became Bucky and Clint. Clint wasn’t even entirely sure when it had happened, just that one day, Barnes had walked into the shooting range and hovereed along the edges until Clint had finished making trick shots at moving targets. “Do you ever miss?” he asked curiously, no judgment in his tone.

Clint had raised an eyebrow at the other man and retorted archly, “Do you?”

Barnes had grinned then, just a small upwards tilt at the corners of his mouth, but Clint knew he was amused when he’d answered, “Only if it’s on purpose,” which had set Clint off.

“You’re really something else, you know that, Barnes?” he asked when his laughter had died down to the occasional chuckle.

“Bucky,” the Soldier said. Clint blinked at him, and he shrugged, looking almost embarrassed. “Bucky. It’s my name.”

Clint had smiled then. “Bucky, then,” he’d agreed. “And I’m Clint.”

Bucky had nodded his acceptance at the new designation, and that had been settled just like that.

Occasionally, when he was bored, Clint would talk out loud, telling stories about his past, both in the circus and in SHIELD. He never spoke of actual missions, of course; there was no way of being certain if the Winter Soldier had ever had an impact on some of those missions, especially the ones that went sideways for no reason that anybody could pinpoint.

But he talked about some of the craziness he’d gotten up to with some of the younger field agents, and about meeting Natasha (and choosing not to shoot her, which was probably the best stupid decision he’d ever made), and about Phil. Talking about Phil was hard, but it was also cathartic. Bucky had no idea who Phil was, or what he’d meant to Clint and Natasha, and that made it easier, somehow, to talk about him.

Slowly, Bucky started to show an interest in what Clint was doing. He’d been Steve’s Sergeant and sniper back in the war, and Clint could tell that he had pride in his ability, like Clint did. There were a lot of things to regret about being the Winter Soldier, but being able to protect Steve and the Howling Commandos was a good thing, and one that he deserved to be proud of.

Once Bucky showed an interest in Clint’s skill with a bow and arrows, Clint took a risk and challenged the Soldier to a shoot-off. Bucky had seemed surprised and had refused on reflex, but Clint told him it was an open offer. Bucky had left after that, but he’d seemed more thoughtful than traumatized, and Jarvis informed Clint that Bucky had gone to the gym afterwards, so Clint figured he hadn’t messed up too badly.

Six days later, Bucky was back, a rifle slung across his shoulder. “I might need a little practice,” he told Clint ruefully. The archer had just laughed and gone to get a pair of earmuffs, then watched in delight as Bucky shot at moving targets, their speed and distance varying at seemingly random intervals. He was every bit as good as Steve had boasted, and when he was done, Clint had clapped and cheered.

“You didn’t need to practice at all!” he told Bucky, clapping the Soldier on the back. Bucky jolted in surprise, then froze, but made no moves to attack. Clint grimaced anyhow.

“Sorry about that, man,” he apologized. “I wasn’t thinking.”

Bucky just shook his head. “Don’t apologize,” he told Clint. “I...think it’s a good thing? I mean, that you feel comfortable enough to touch me without assumin’ I’m gonna stab you.”

Clint blinked. “Oh? Was stabbing on the table?” Bucky stared at him with wide eyes, and Clint slapped a hand to his forehead. “Sorry. I’m an idiot sometimes,” he sighed.

Bucky shook his head. “Naw, it’s not that,” he admitted. “Jus’ the way you said it reminded me of someone. I think. It’s a bit fuzzy. But I think stabbin’ meant somethin’ different in that memory than what you meant.”

Clint considered that for a long moment, watching Bucky’s cheeks flush a dull red. Idly, he noted that he’d never seen the Soldier blush before. But really, stabbing was stabbing. Sharp pointy bit goes into flesh. Clint tripped over his own logic, realization setting in. Oh, _that_ kind of stabbing.

He flushed, too. “Yeah, well, I promise I didn’t mean it like that.” Bucky nodded, and the two men stood there awkwardly, looking at everything except each other, before Clint finally managed to stammer out a lame excuse about needing to go spar (read: get his ass kicked) with Natasha and left at a brisk walk (no, he was _not _running, fuck you very much, Stark).

It was another three days before Clint saw Bucky again, this time in a group training session led by Steve. And it was discovered that, rather than their sniping skills being redundant, Clint and Bucky complemented each other. Positioned correctly, the two of them could clear an entire field of opponents, leaving very little in the way of blind spots that weren’t covered by the flight-capable members of their group. And from there, it was only a short leap of logic to pull Bucky into the Avengers.

Watching him as Steve announced that Bucky was now an official Avenger - with Tony backing him up, even - Clint wondered what the Soldier thought of all this. Cool grey eyes in a blank face gave very little away, and so Clint did what he did best. Be an asshole.

Picking up one of the pens scattered neatly around the table, Clint threw it at Bucky, aiming for that spot between his eyebrows. The Soldier reached out and grabbed the pen out of the air with his metal hand, snapping it into tiny pieces. The room fell silent and Bucky turned to look at him. Clint grinned unrepentantly, and gave Bucky a slow clap, ignoring Steve’s pained, “Clint, what are you doing?” and Tony’s muffled snickering.

“Welcome to the team, Soldier.”

Bucky stared at him for a solid minute before giving a small nod. “Thanks,” he said. Then he turned to Tony. “Sorry about your pen.”

Tony shrugged. “Blame Clint. Everyone else does."

Bucky looked at Clint and raised his eyebrows. The archer shrugged, folding his hands behind his head as he smirked.

As Bucky turned back to listen to Steve, Natasha gave Clint a raised eyebrow of her own. Clint made a small gesture with his fingers, and his friend nodded minutely.

Bucky was one of them now. And they'd watch out for him.


	2. Chapter 2

"Stark, what the hell are these things spitting?" Clint demanded, glaring as one of sentient...plant...things volleyed a cloud of dust-like particles at the armored genius.

"They're plants, Barton," Tony replied testily. "What do you think?"

"Iron Man, are you able to figure out what the pollen is doing?" Steve asked, ignoring their squabbling. He’d tried, in the beginning, to get them to cut out the chatter on the comms, but had eventually given up, probably realizing that it was better to let them relieve stress by snarking at each other than by doing something reckless - like flying a bomb into a wormhole. Or jumping off a fifty story building with no grappling arrows and no guarantee that someone was paying attention.

“If I knew what it was doing, I’d have said so,” Tony snapped back irritably, and Clint grinned. Nothing bugged Tony more than  _ not knowing something _ . “Jarvis is still running diagnostics, but unless we want to throw someone at the plants just to see what happens, you’re going to have to wait.”

“I’ve got a volunteer,” Sam snarked, then banked sharply as a shot grazed just past his wings. “Dammit, Barnes.”

“Oops, sorry,” Bucky said, not the least bit apologetic. “I thought you were a plant.” Clint snickered as Sam bitched at the other sniper.

“Bucky,” Steve sighed, “please don’t shoot Sam.” Clint could practically feel the smugness radiating off of Wilson, but Steve wasn’t done yet. “And Sam, while I appreciate your enthusiasm and willingness to volunteer yourself as a test subject, I would really rather you didn’t.”

Sam squawked in outrage, Bucky laughed, and Clint wondered how it was that the whole world didn’t know how much of a giant troll Steve Rogers was.

One of the plants opened its...mouth? Maw? Whatever was hidden behind the giant petals. Clint shot one of his exploding arrows directly in between those petals. The moment it made contact, the arrow lit the plant up, and Clint winced as it squealed in agony, reaching up and turning down his hearing aides. He hadn’t realized these things could make actual  _ sounds _ .

Unfortunately, while Tony could filter the noise through the armor, most of their group had no such protection, and as the other plants joined in the cacophony, thick limbs flailing, the Avengers clapped hands over their ears, trying to block out the noise. Sam dropped out of the sky, landing hard on the pavement, and Thor flew up higher, out of range of both the noise and the writhing vines. One of the plants lashed out and struck the building that Bucky had been perched on. The Soldier, having covered his ears when the noise had started, was not well-balanced, and the jolt from the attack sent him stumbling forward, and right over the edge of the building.

“Bucky!” Clint yelled, panicked, not sure if anybody could hear him, but a moment later Iron Man was flying through the air, snagging the soldier before twisting back through the air, heading for Clint’s perch. Clint saw two of the plants opening their petals, but didn’t have time to cry out a warning before the pollen was flung outwards, quickly enveloping the two men still in the air. And heading straight for Clint.

Cursing under his breath, Clint pulled another exploding arrow, taking aim and loosing it just as the pollen reached him. He felt himself get yanked into the air, and then they were flying up and out, but it was too late; he’d already breathed it in.

Coughing, his eyes tearing up, Clint glanced over at Bucky, who was limp in Tony’s hold. “This sucks,” he muttered, his eyes already drifting closed, his body going pliant, leaving Tony to curse and try to maneuver the dead weight of both men to safety. 

Below them, two more plants exploded, but Clint never saw it, unconscious before they reached the Quinjet.


	3. Chapter 3

When Clint awoke, it was to a persistent ringing in his ears and a splitting headache. He couldn’t hear anything past the ringing, and that worried him enough to open his eyes. Which turned out to be a huge mistake, as the ceiling lights stabbed through his retinas and straight into his brain, adding a sharp agony to the angry throbbing. “Ow, ow, fuck,” he muttered, feeling the words vibrate in his throat, but not actually hearing them. “Shit,” he added succinctly. His hearing aids must be blown. Again. 

He could sense that he wasn’t alone, and he was proven right when the light filtering through his eyelids dimmed. He risked opening his eyes and found himself staring up at Natasha, who gestured at her own ears. Clint shook his head, and she nodded, her mouth shaping slowly enough that he could read her lips, her hands moving as well, which required less effort given his current headache. “Tony is making new ones that shouldn’t go bad so easily,” she told him.

Clint went to give her a thumbs up, and only then realized that he couldn’t move. He jerked his arms, realizing that he was tied down with something soft, but strong. His eyes widened and he thrashed again, his breath harsh in his lungs and throat as he clenched his teeth against a scream. None of them liked being tied down, and to be unable to hear and have no memory of what had happened was just compounding his anxiety.

Natasha gripped his head firmly, one hand covering each ear and forcing him to look up at her as she repeated his name. “Clint, you are safe,” she said, over and over again until Clint shuddered, calming. Having Natasha’s hands clamped over his ears helped, letting him trick his brain into thinking that it was her grip on him that had muffled his ability to hear.

Clint sensed movement to the right of him and jerked. Natasha forced him to face her again and stared him down until he subsided. With a pleased smile, his partner and best friend released him, and he looked over to the side to see Bucky in a similar state, bound to a bed with his metal arm locked into a magcuff, talking to Steve and looking unhappy about whatever it was they were discussing. Steve wasn’t facing him directly, and his head hurt too much to try and read their conversation.

“What happened?” Clint asked, realizing he was probably speaking too loud when the other two men startled.

Steve looked at Clint worriedly, then at Natasha, who answered his unspoken question, signing her words to Clint as she did so. The archer forced down the simmer of irritation at the others talking over his head, but he wouldn’t be able to contribute anything meaningful anyhow.

Something was itching at the back of his mind, though, and Clint huffed, his eyes narrowing as he tried to pinpoint it. He felt eyes on him and turned his head to stare at Bucky, who was staring right back, a small frown on his face. His eyes never leaving Clint’s, Bucky spoke, his words careful, but not particularly slow or exaggerated, which Clint appreciated. “I think he’s angry you’re talking about him,” he said. Clint realized that Bucky was speaking much as the Winter Soldier had, a carefully modulated tone that hid any hint of an accent. It made understanding him without being able to hear much easier without being an obvious concession, and Clint appreciated it. 

Bucky gave him a small smile and a quick wink, then tugged at his own arm. “How about you let me out of these?” he asked. When Steve frowned, as if to protest, Bucky turned to face his best friend. “Please?” he asked, his eyes wide and beseeching. Clint had seen that look a few times, as Bucky became more himself and less of the Asset, a pleading look that made Steve crumple like a wet paper towel. Even Tony hadn’t been able to resist that look, and that had been hilarious, watching Tony cave to the Winter Soldier’s pretty please face.

Conversation stopped abruptly and three faces turned towards the door, Clint following belatedly as Tony breezed in, a StarkPad in his hands and his mouth moving a mile a minute as he frowned down at the screen. He was talking too fast for Clint to understand, and nobody else seemed inclined to translate for him, so he settled for a (loud?), “Hey, deaf guy here. Could you maybe help a guy out a bit?”

Tony looked up at him, startled, and Clint felt a flash of apology slide through him, which confused him. He shouldn’t be feeling apologetic; it was everybody else that was being an asshole. A small mix of humor threaded through the guilt, still overlaid by irritation, and Clnt frowned again.

Before he could ask what was happening, again, Tony was standing in front of him, the StarkPad turned towards him so he could read the data printed on it. Clint flinched away from the bright backlighting of the screen, and a moment later, it was dimmed to something much more reasonable, and Clint glanced at the articles as Tony flipped through them, still talking, but it hardly mattered whether or not Clint could hear him. He was pretty sure the words coming out of the genius’ mouth didn’t matter in the face of what he was reading.

He’d heard of Soulbonds, of course - everybody had. Middle school health class spoke about the instinctive pull of a Soulmate, the instant attraction when two Soulmates met. SHIELD required that all junior agents take a course in recognizing a Soulbond, and in how to proceed if one was identified. Soulmates could feel emotions from their Bonded partner, and could sometimes speak telepathically, if the Bond was strong enough. You couldn’t separate Soulmates from each other, no matter how far apart you put them, not without killing one. And on the field? Soulmates were highly prized as partners in combat, because they were effective. There had been rumors that Steve and Bucky had been Soulmates back in the days, but Steve had nixed that, claiming that if that were the case, he would’ve known Bucky had survived the fall, and would have felt him again when we awoke from the ice.

That being said, Clint was pretty sure he’d know if Bucky Barnes was his Soulmate. From all accounts, it was supposed to be some sort of magical attraction that both halves were helpless to resist. And other than noticing that Bucky was absurdly handsome (even a blind man would know that, Clint was pretty sure), it wasn’t like Clint was actually attracted to him or anything. Although, now that he was thinking about it, he realized that there was a subtle pull, settled somewhere in his chest.

Rattling the chain on his cuffs, grateful for the padding, Clint got Natasha’s attention. Why are we restrained? He asked. Natasha gave him a look that he was really familiar with, the one that said he was being deliberately obtuse. He grimaced.

Movement from his right caught Clint’s attention, and he blinked up at Tony, who had stepped out of the room at some point. The man was holding out a pair of hearing aids, just standard ones, and Clint remained still as Natasha swapped them out for him. Sound returned in a wash of noise, a Clint took a moment to readjust, breathing through the initial feedback. He eventually realized that Bucky was talking, and he interrupted him.

“Whoa, stop. Try again,” he said, and Bucky paused, blinked, then nodded.

“Apparently that pollen initiates the start of a Soulbond,” he started again. “It hit both of us, as well as more’n a dozen agents.”

Clint tensed. “Are they okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” Natasha broke in, and Clint turned his attention to her. He trusted her not to try and bullshit him. “It didn’t appear to affect Agent Kalari at all, but Agents Black and Larus nearly started a riot trying to get to each other. The other agents didn’t appear to be affected beyond a headache, thought they’re being kept under observation for the time being.”

Clint read between the lines. It was well-known in SHIELD that Agent Kalari was one half of a Soulmated pair. Black and Larus were both relatively new, but they’d been dancing around each other for months now, so Clint supposed he wasn’t really that surprised that they were Soulmates.

He looked over a Bucky, who grimaced at him, his cheeks turning pink. “Yeah, I came outta it halfway here and apparently tried to go through Stevie to get at you.” He grimaced again. “I don’t remember it, though.”

Clint looked to Steve, who appeared uninjured, for confirmation. Steve smiled at him. “I’m fine,” he reassured the archer. “But we needed to keep you two apart until we could figure out what’s going on.”

Clnt narrowed his eyes. “We’re in the same room,” he pointed out.

“Yes,” Tony agreed, “because when we tried to take you to a different room, Barnes here went ballistic. So we nixed that. And since you were still unconscious, and I’m a huge proponent of enthusiastic consent, we compromised. You stayed here, but we needed a bit of insurance.” He gestured at the cuffs.

“Yeah, well, I’m awake now,” Clint pointed out the obvious. “Think you could maybe let me go?” He could pick the cuffs, but that would take time.

Tony met his eyes for a moment, considering, but then nodded, moving forward to release the cuffs from around Clint’s wrist. “Thanks,” he murmured, sitting up, testing his balance before swinging his feet of the side of the bed.

“Whoa now,” Tony started, moving towards him. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Clint considered that for a moment, but he already knew exactly where he was heading, eyes locked with Bucky. “Are you positive that the pollen only initiates Soulbonds in actual Soulmates?” he wondered.

Tony shrugged. “Since we toasted the plants?” he asked. “No. We can only guess at this point.” The face he made told Clint exactly what the genius thought about guessing. “But Bruce seems pretty sure.” Clint shouldn’t be surprised that Tony had deferred to Bruce’s expertise on this. Soulbonds were a rare field of study, despite the fact that approximately one in every three thousand people had a Soulmate. But there was no set rules to who had a Soulmate and who didn’t, or to how Soulmates met or realized they were Soulmates. It had long been suspected that there were more Soulbound pairs than estimated, but that those Soulbonds took the form of familial or friendship Soulbonds, rather than the kind that led to marriage and two-point-five kids.

Clint was halfway across the room before he ran into the wall that was Steve Rogers. He blinked, craning his head to look up at the other man. “Hi,” he said.

Steve smiled. “Hi,” he parroted. “Do you think you can answer a few questions?” he asked.

Clint narrowed his eyes. “Depends,” he answered. “If it’s above Level 3, I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything.” That wasn’t strictly true; Clint was very, very good at improvising.

“Ha ha, very funny,” Tony snarked as he wandered past him, over to Bucky’s bed. Clint made to follow him, but there was a hand on his chest, and he looked back up at Steve.

“You with us?” Steve asked.

Clint frowned. “Of course,” he answered. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, but you keep trying to get to Bucky. Are you even aware you’re doing it?” Tony asked bluntly. He still hadn’t released Bucky’s magcuffs.

Clint frowned. “Nat?” he asked.

“I’ll get Bruce,” Natasha said, which wasn’t an answer at all. She slipped out the door, and the stalemate continued. Clint wanted to follow that pull over to Bucky, Steve kept getting in his way, Tony was nattering on about Soulbonds and asking all sorts of questions that Clint was in no kind of mood to answer.

The door opened again, and Bruce shuffled in, exhaustion lining his eyes and the corners of his mouth. He gave Clint a small smile. “Hey,” he greeted.

Clint smiled. “Hey, Doc,” he answered. “What’s up?”

Bruce shook his head. “I have a few questions that I need to ask both of you,” he said, glancing over at Bucky before turning back to Clint. “Are you okay to answer?”

“As long as it’s less than twenty,” Clint teased, “I’m game.”

Bruce gave him another shy smile. “All right,” he agreed. “How are you feeling? Any pain? Nausea? Disorientation?”

Clint and Bucky both responded in the negative, with the exception of Clint’s residual headache. Bruce nodded, checking Clint’s pulse and the dilation of his eyes before moving over to do the same for Bucky and asking his next question, not meeting either of their eyes.

“Have you ever considered sexual relations with each other?” he asked.

“No,” Clint answered immediately.

“Yes,” Bucky replied at the same time.

The two men stared each other down.

“...Yes,” Clint admitted after a long moment. He’d never seriously considered propositioning Bucky, but he had to admit that he’d had the occasional urge to pin the man to the nearest wall and kiss him breathless. What could he say? He really, really appreciated competence and ruthless efficiency, and the Winter Soldier had both in spades.

Bruce didn’t seem surprised. “It is still unknown how much a Soulbond affects sexual arousal and interest between two Soulmates,” he admitted, “which raises the question of consent. However, it has been confirmed that mutual attraction is oftentimes present in the Soulbonds of mated pairs, but it usually doesn’t activate unless the two partners...consummate the bond.” He still wouldn’t meet their eyes, but that was okay, because Clint and Bucky were both looking anywhere but at each other, too.

“So then what’s the problem?” Clint asked.

“The problem is that the Pollen appears to have initiated a Soulbond without any consummation having actually taken place,” Bruce asked, then paused. “Umm…..it hasn’t taken place, right?” he asked.

“No!” This time, both men agreed. Clint looked at Bucky, who was blushing hotly.

Bruce nodded, seemingly relieved. “You didn’t get a full dose, so we think that it only started the process. It’s possible that given time, the fledgling Bond will fade. Or it won’t. We don’t have enough information,” he admitted.

Clint considered that. “And if we choose to, uh, consummate it?” he asked.

“Then the Soulbond will likely take hold completely,” Bruce acknowledged.

Clint nodded, then looked at Bucky. “We need to talk,” he said at last. The last thing he wanted was to traumatize Bucky. Every last one of them had experienced a loss of autonomy at some point in their lives, but Bucky had been brainwashed and used against his will, made to kill people and forget about them afterwards. Clint had also experienced something similar under the sway of Loki’s scepter. Neither of them deserved to be used against their will, Soulbond or not. If Bruce thought there was a chance that the Soulbond could be restored to its latent state, and Bucky wanted that, then Clint would abide his wishes. But he couldn’t help that selfish part of him that wanted Bucky to say ‘yes’, to agree to try this. Maybe it was the partial Soulbond wanting to be complete, maybe not.

“Yes,” But agreed, looking up at Tony. “You gonna let me outta these?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Sure,” Tony said. “After you two talk.” He looked sharply at Clint. “Do I need to tie you up again, too?” he asked.

Clint smirked. “Kinky, but no,” he declined, moving around Steve, who looked to Bruce before letting him past. Clint settled on the bed next to Bucky’s hip, feeling better at the proximity, his headache finally starting to recede. He felt a mix of relief and want pulse through him, and he realized that not all of it was his. He grinned at Bucky, who smiled back at him.

“Tony, perhaps it would be best if you and Steve left now,” Bruce suggested firmly. Steve gave Bucky one last searching look before nodding, pulling a resisting Tony out of the room.

“I really hope you have a key to these cuffs, Doctor,” Bucky drawled. Clint laughed.

Bruce smiled at the Soldier reassuringly. “The cuffs can be unlocked with my biometric signature, yes,” he reassured them. “I’ll give you two a few minutes of privacy,” he added, then wandered over to the other side of the room. Clint wasn’t under any delusions, though; the mild-seeming doctor was fully aware of them.

He looked down at Bucky. “So,” he started, stopped, started again. “Uh…”

“Look, I know this isn’t ‘xactly ideal,” Bucky interrupted, saving Clint from figuring out how to start what promised to be a hugely awkward conversation, “but the truth is that I’ve always wondered if I had a Soulmate out there.” He met Clint’s eyes, challenging him to argue. Clint kept his mouth shut, and Bucky continued. “Seemed unlikely, seein’ as how I didn’t have one in the forties,” he mused. Clint nodded; Steve had said much the same thing, that perhaps Peggy had been his Soulmate, perhaps not, but either way, he would never get the chance to find out, never get the chance to even try. 

Bucky eyed Clint. “An’ I gotta be honest, if it had been someone else, I might’a said no,” he admitted. “I can’t see m’self with Stark or Natalia.”

“Not even Steve?” Clint asked, though he was only halfway joking. Bucky made a yuck face.

“The guy’s like my kid brother,” he complained. “Mouthy and bossy and never met a bully he didn’t wanna punch. No, he and I weren’t ever that kinda Soulmate.” He tipped his head in consideration. “Family, though, maybe,” he mused. “I mean, I shouldn’t’a recognized him on the bridge that day, whether he knew my name or not. But I did. I knew him. Took a while to figure out why, but I knew ‘im.”

Clint nodded. Familial and friend Soulbonds were still considered legitimate bonds, but they were more subtle. A friend being in the right place at the right time. A family member that survived a fatal accident against all odds. A feeling that you knew somebody, even when you’d never met before. They existed, but the research on them was even more vague than the research on what most scientists referred to as The Soulbond, the bond between Soulmates.

“An’ you?” Bucky asked, reminding Clint that he was supposed to be having a conversation.

“Oh, oh, me, either,” he said. “I mean, I didn’t think I had one, except Nat.” And Phil, but he was dead, and Clint had damn near followed him, would have if Natasha hadn’t still been around to keep him going, he supposed.

“So is that a yes?” Bucky asked, sounding suddenly unsure.

Clint let his smile overtake his face. “That’s a yes,” he agreed.

“Oh, thank god,” Bucky said.

“Yes,” Bruce agreed, startling both men. He raised his eyebrows at the two men. “This is really uncomfortable,” he admitted, “so I’m going to release Sergeant Barnes now, and then I’m going to leave. I would appreciate it if you would wait until the door closes behind me.”

“Better move fast, then,” Clint sing-songed, “because I make no guarantees.” 

Bruce gave him a look, and Clint grinned, unrepentant as Bruce pressed his fingers to a hidden latch on the magcuffs, releasing Bucky, who was upright in an instant, holding himself still, his jaw tight as Bruce excused himself from the room.

As soon as the man was gone, Clint was reaching out for Bucky. His wrist was caught in a metal arm, and Bucky looked at him seriously, silver eyes already darkening with wicked promise. “Last chance,” he told the archer. “Are you sure?”

Clint smiled. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m sure.” And this time, when he reached for the other man, Bucky didn’t stop him.

The instant Clint touched Bucky, that subtle pull turned into a flood, fast and inescapable, and Clint cried out, echoed by Bucky as the fledgling Bond urged them to complete it, to become Soulmates in truth. 

Clint crushed his lips against Bucky’s, and let himself drown.


	4. Chapter 4

Clint didn’t even turn around to face the sulfur-spewing creature coming at him, instead shooting one of the bat-winged beasts away from Tony, who was dealing with half a dozen more in front of him. There was the crack of a rifle, and the creature behind him dropped, dead before it hit the rooftop.

_ Nice shooting _, Clint praised with a grin.

_ Pay more attention _ , Bucky grumbled back, not bothering to use his communicator. _ You could’ve been turned into a pile of sulfuric goo _.

Clint snickered. Pile of sulfuric goo. He’d have to remember to tease Bucky about that later. For now, he settled for sending amusement and reassurance through the Soulbond as he lined up his next shot, feeling Bucky doing the same over on another roof. It had taken a while to get used to feeling like he was in two places at once, but they’d spent hours at the range, practicing on increasingly bizarre and complicated targets created by Tony - the man loved a challenge as much as any of them - and adapting to their new battle style.

When they weren’t practicing, they could be found cuddling together on the couch (they’d only been caught making out on it once, and they hadn’t even gotten their pants off yet, but Steve had been so embarrassed that they’d decided to keep the naked cuddling restricted to the bedroom) or roaming the halls of the new SHIELD Headquarters, spooking the interns with their silent communication and working with other Soulbound pairs on learning as much as they could about what they could do and how they affected each other.

They had both been relieved to find out that the Soulbond didn’t make them dependent solely on each other. It had rather the opposite effect. Bucky had started venturing out on his own more and more, knowing that Clint could find him to within a couple of miles if something happened. And when Thor brought Loki to the Tower to “make amends”, Clint managed to not shoot the trickster, reaching out for Bucky and getting reassurance and love in return. He’d still decked the guy, though. It was the principle of the thing.

The first time the two of them had gone out into the field, they had cleared the field in no time at all, leaving the other Avengers - with the exception of Bruce - to bitch about gearing up, only to find themselves extraneous. At least Tony had gotten to tinker with botched AIM tech. But for Clint and Bucky, they found that they were even more efficient when they could read each other’s thoughts, and - perhaps most importantly - could see what the other one was seeing. Not in the same sense as looking through each other’s eyes, but Clint was both aware of opponents in proximity to him, and in proximity to his Soulmate. The first time Clint had shot an enemy point-blank without having a visual on it, Sam Wilson had nearly had a damn heart attack (probably because the arrow had grazed one of the wings on the EXO-7 on its way past).

Clint peered down at the melee down below, his eyes narrowing. “Are those...are those the same plant things as last time?” he demanded. “Seriously? They’re recycling monsters now?”

“Yeah, but this time, maybe we’ll actually get to capture one,” Tony said gleefully.

Amusement and an odd sort of gratitude filtered down the Bond. Clint understood; he felt the same way. Whatever these plants were, and wherever they’d come from, they had given him something he never thought he’d have. A partner, a lover, a friend, an ally. Someone who understood him on every level, someone who had his back no matter what (even when he was a bit of a disaster). To him, it had been nothing less than a blessing.

He nocked another arrow and took aim, checking one more time that Bucky was in agreement, and then he let it fly. A split moment later, the plant exploded in a ball of flame, forcing the Avengers on the ground to duck for shelter, and the ones in the air to swing out of range.

“Dammit, birdbrain, what the hell was that for?” Tony demanded, his tone wavering somewhere between appreciative at the excessiveness of the fire and mournful at the loss of a shiny new toy. Clint had no doubt that if he’d wanted to, Tony could’ve weaponized the plants. Or at least the pollen. And even if he wouldn’t, that didn’t mean that somebody else would. No, it was better that they take care of this now, before anybody else got caught up in a pollen-induced Soulbond.

Clint just shrugged, prepping another arrow. When he finished, not a single Sex Pollen Soulbonding Plant Monster would remain, for study or anything else. If people found their Soulmates, it should be on their own terms. Not to mention what would happen to couples that weren’t each other’s Soulmates, but had still found their own kind of happy ending.

_ Lucky me, I didn’t haveta wait that long, after all, _Bucky drawled, using his pulse-powered rifle to keep the other creatures away from Clint while the archer systematically destroyed the few remaining plants.

_ Finish up here, and you really won’t, _ Clint agreed with a leer, sending a very detailed image through the Bond. Bucky’s next shot missed its target, blasting a hole in the street.

There was a long pause over the comms. “You know what?” Steve said at last. “I don’t want to know.”

As the rest of the Avengers chimed in with their own two cents, Bucky snapping irritably to hide his embarrassment, Clint smirked.

He totally had this.


End file.
